


The Family Business

by Rusakko



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-23 09:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6112744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rusakko/pseuds/Rusakko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I think Grandma wants us to pick up where she left off. Saving people, hunting things. The family business.”</p><p>Lalli Hotakainen thought he had left hunting monsters and ghosts behind him for good. But after their grandmother’s death, his cousin shows up, asking for Lalli’s help to fulfil her last wish. Although they do not know it, an old enemy is also hot on their heels…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Intruder

_”Onni, take Lalli and Tuuri outside as fast as you can!” Grandma pushes them towards the stairs, shouting over the crackling of the fire. “Go!”_

_Lalli tries to reach for her, but Onni grabs his hand and drags him away through the smoke._  
_“What about mom and dad?” he hears Tuuri gasp out. “And Lalli’s mom and dad?”_  
_“Grandma will get them, now hurry!” Onni replies, coughing._

_Outside, the fire truck is already pulling up and they are quickly jostled off into the back of an ambulance by paramedics. Someone tries to wrap Lalli in a blanket; he manages to squirm loose and starts to run back towards the house, but Onni grabs him again just when the windows explode outward in a mass of flames._

_“It’s going to be all right”, Tuuri tells him, bravely, as the firefighters get their hose working and start blasting water at the flames. But at that moment, Grandma emerges from the house, half dragged and half carried by a firefighter, who is shaking his head at his colleagues, and Onni bursts into tears, and Lalli knows that things will never be all right again._

Lalli wakes with a start, still tasting the smoke in his mouth, and hits his head on the bottom of the bed above him. It’s been three weeks since Grandma’s funeral, and the old nightmare from more than ten years ago has been back to haunt him every night. Or day, really, since Lalli’s lifestyle is mostly nocturnal.

But it’s not the nightmare that has woken him. He can hear noise from the kitchen, footsteps and slammed cupboard doors. A burglar? Or something worse?

Lalli soundlessly crawls out from under the bed, grabbing the knife that he always keeps beside him, just in case. He creeps to the door, waits for a heartbeat and then crashes it open, leaping out with the knife ready to stab any unwelcome visitor.

And skids to a halt as he sees his short, chubby cousin, who is holding an empty box of cookies.  
“Do you ever eat anything else than rye bread and these?” Tuuri asks him, waving the box. “And put the knife away, it’s just me.”  
“What are you doing here?” Lalli demands.  
“Making sure that you’re alive. You haven’t been answering your phone.”  
“You could have e-mailed me.”  
“You don’t answer your e-mails either.”  
She’s right, but that doesn’t make Lalli any happier.  
“I’m alive. Now leave me alone”, he hisses.

Tuuri sighs.  
“All right, I did have another reason for coming.” She grabs her shoulder bag from the floor, brushing stray breadcrumbs and hair off it. “You could clean your kitchen a bit more often, you know.”  
Lalli watches her intently as she digs around in the bag. Maybe she’s brought cookies? No, of course she hasn’t. That would’ve been too much to hope for. It’s just a stupid old leather-bound –

“That’s Grandma’s journal”, Lalli says quietly. Why has Tuuri brought _that_ here?  
“It arrived in the mail two days after she died”, his cousin says, her voice trembling a little at the last word. “She must have known something was coming for her and sent it to me.”  
“Why?” Lalli asks. “Was there a message for you?”  
“No, it’s just full of notes on… you know, hunting stuff. Monsters, ghosts, evil spirits, witches. And then there’s this.” She hands him a newspaper clipping. _Another hiker drowned in Nuuksio National Park_ , the headline says. Lalli skims the article. Apparently, seven hikers have drowned in the same lake during the last five years, always around Midsummer. That’s weird, but he doesn’t want to admit it to Tuuri. Doesn’t want to hear what she’s going to say. 

She says it anyway.  
“I think Grandma wants us to pick up where she left off. Saving people, hunting things. The family business.”

“No.” Lalli says it without hesitating. They had agreed to leave it behind, all three of them. Grandma had accepted it too, wanted them to live normal lives. Or at least as normal as was possible for three cousins who had lost their parents and been brought up by a hunter obsessed with catching the monster that killed them. The nightmares are bad enough already, he doesn’t want to give them any more fuel. “Don’t you have your university studies to focus on, anyway?”  
“It’s the summer holiday, stupid”, Tuuri replies. “And I resigned from my job after Grandma died. I just couldn’t face work, and anyway, she actually left us some money. So I’ve got all the time in the world.”  
“I don’t. I have a job.”  
“Playing poker on the internet isn’t a job.”  
“It pays pretty well.”  
“So you could afford to take a few days off and help me.”  
Lalli hates arguing with Tuuri. She always has an answer to everything. But he isn’t ready to give in yet.  
“Ask Onni.”  
“I did. Where did you think I got your spare key, anyway? But you know what he’s like, he just tried to persuade me not to do it. I suspect he hasn’t left his apartment since the funeral. You should see the warding signs he’s painted everywhere, he’s completely paranoid. And he’s a useless hunter anyway, even though he’s good at all the theoretical stuff.”

She’s right again. You can’t trust someone to have your back if they’re prone to bursting into tears at the slightest sign of danger. Lalli decides to change track.  
“This drowning thing, what’s so strange about it? It’s Midsummer, people get drunk. Then they drown.”  
“If you’d read it properly, you’d know that none of them were drunk. And they were found with their clothes and backpacks, but there are no cliffs or anything around the lake, so they can’t have fallen in. Besides, the water is shallow close to the shore, you need to wade in deeper to actually be able to drown. Or be dragged by something.”  
“Suicide?” Lalli suggests desperately. He feels that _he_ is being dragged into something he wants no part of. Tuuri just gives him a pitying look.  
“Come on, Lalli. It’s a Näkki, and you know it.”  
Of course it is. But it isn’t his problem.  
“Look, I know you don’t think it’s your problem, and I promise I won’t ask you to do anything like this again. Just help me this one time, please. I need to do this, for Grandma. It seems to have been her dying wish.”

Lalli scrunches his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to do this. He just wants to crawl back under the bed and go to sleep. But Tuuri is sad, he can see it on her face and hear it in her voice. He doesn’t want her to be sad.  
“Fine”, he says. And immediately regrets it.


	2. Näkki

He regrets it even more when Tuuri arrives to pick him up the next day.  
“Why are you driving… that?” Lalli gestures towards the ancient, battered grey van with distaste.  
Tuuri shrugs.  
“It seemed appropriate, somehow. Taking Grandma’s van on its last hunting trip. In any case, you shouldn’t complain, you hate taking the bus even more. And I found the puke bags where she always kept them for you, so we’re good to go.”  
The van still smells faintly of cat pee even though Grandma’s cat, Misu-Misu, has been dead for years. The smell brings back countless childhood memories, which are mostly about car sickness and Tuuri and Onni fighting over what music they should listen to. Well, at least Grandma must surely have gotten rid of Tuuri’s atrocious cassette tape collection after they moved out –  
“And can you believe it, all my cassette tapes are still here, too! I always knew that she was only pretending not to like them.” Tuuri triumphantly holds up a collection of Leevi and the Leavings’ greatest hits. Lalli growls at her.  
“Don’t be so grumpy, Lalli! Anyway, house rules: driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.”  
As the first notes of _Teuvo, maanteiden kuningas_ drift out of the stereo and Tuuri starts to sing along, Lalli closes his eyes and resigns himself to the fact that it’s going to be a long, long day. 

He doesn’t puke, although he’d almost like to, just out of spite. Surprisingly, Tuuri manages to get them to the National Park without crashing the van, though judging by the way the other drivers keep honking, it’s a close thing. It’s only once they’re in the small parking spot, surrounded by trees, that he thinks of asking Tuuri what her plan is.

It’s not convincing.

“There was a really simple spell in Grandma’s journal for getting the Näkki out of the water. We’ll use that, and then attack it when it’s on dry land.”  
“Attack it how?” Lalli doesn’t recall Grandma ever mentioning exactly how you’re supposed to kill a Näkki. She’d just really emphasised that you should keep away from pretty, naked girls or boys hanging around rivers and lakes. Horses too, especially if they were singing. Or did the singing part only apply to the human-looking Näkki?  
“I’m not sure, but I’ve got rock salt, holy water, a gun with silver bullets, a Bible, an iron bar… One of them should work, right?”  
Lalli is even less convinced, but it’s too late to try to change Tuuri’s mind. She’s already walking off towards the little path that snakes away into the forest, consulting a map as she walks.  
“Hurry up, Lalli! It’s only a few kilometres, and I’ll give you cookies once we’re halfway there.”  
Cookies. Well, at least she’s done one thing right.

Even the cookies can’t help Lalli’s growing nervousness as they approach the lake several hours later. The walk shouldn’t really have taken them that long, but an unfortunate mishap with the map has given them an opportunity to admire Nuuksio National Park a bit more thoroughly than intended. That’s what Tuuri says. What she means is that she mixed up east and west and ended up leading them in the wrong direction for two hours before admitting her mistake. They also waded through a swamp. Lalli’s shoes are wet. He is not happy. However, he can’t focus properly on his indignation because Tuuri has grown quiet where she is walking beside him and he can tell that she’s scared, too.

The sun is still up – this time of year, it barely goes down at all – but it’s low in the sky, tinting the trunks of the pines around them red and casting long shadows among the bilberry shrubs and the moss. The lake is dark and still. The Näkki, if it’s there, doesn’t care to show itself.

“So, what do we do now?” Lalli asks softly.  
“I… don’t know. Maybe we should wait for it to appear?” Now that they are there, Tuuri doesn’t seem to feel like going too close to the lake. That’s fine with Lalli. Maybe the Näkki won’t come out at all and they can just go home.

At first, it seems that his wish may come true. They settle down to wait, leaning against the trunk of a fallen tree. The sun slowly creeps down behind the trees on the opposite shore, leaving them in a bluish twilight. Of course, there are mosquitoes. Of course, neither of them thought to bring insect repellent. It just goes to show how out of practice they are as hunters. Lalli doesn’t want to think too much about that. Instead, he grips his knife tighter.

He doesn’t notice when he slips off into sleep, but he must have dozed off at some point, and it is considerably darker when he wakes up, surrounded by the peculiar greyness of a night without night.

And he can hear singing.

It’s soft, almost indistinguishable from the rustling of the trees in the faint breeze. But as he strains to listen, it slowly becomes clearer. A cool but playful voice, like snow melting in the spring or a bubbling well. He likes it. He’d like to hear it better. He turns towards Tuuri, about to suggest that they go closer to the lake, when he notices that she’s not, in fact, there. And then he sees her walking slowly towards the shore, stumbling over stones and shrubs as if half asleep. If she doesn’t stop soon, she’s going to end up in the water…

That thought breaks the enchantment. Lalli leaps up, almost stabbing himself with the knife he’s still clutching, and starts running after Tuuri, yelling her name. He catches her right as her foot splashes into the lake.  
“Tuuri!” He grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her back. “The spell!”  
“What?” She stares at him, disoriented.  
“The Näkki spell!”  
Tuuri suddenly seems to become aware of her surroundings.  
“Oh!” She bends down, quickly splashes at the water with her hand, and recites: _“Näkki maalle, minä veteen!”_  
“That’s it?” Lalli thinks it seems a bit too simple.  
“That’s all Grandma wrote.”  
They’re both still facing the black water of the lake. Lalli can still hear the singing. But suddenly, he becomes aware that it’s coming from a different direction than before. From behind him.

The Näkki is standing among the trees, maybe ten metres away, surrounded by a faint glow of greenish light. It looks like a blonde young man, fairly well-muscled, and naked. It’s still singing, and beckoning him to come closer. Lalli raises his knife.  
“I’ll try the silver bullet first”, Tuuri whispers. Lalli nods, not taking his eyes off the Näkki.

The gunshot is deafeningly loud, momentarily drowning out the singing. Otherwise, it has regrettably little effect. Except that it appears to have made the Näkki angry. The singing turns into a hiss, and the handsome young man begins to transform into something else, something greenish and rotten and wet and slimy.  
“Salt!” Tuuri exclaims, thrusting a paper bag into Lalli’s hand. They both throw a few fistfuls at the advancing creature, again with no effect. It’s laughing now, a wet, gurgling sound.  
“I’ll try the holy water, you stab it!”

As the holy water splashes into the Näkki’s face, now covered in something that looks like unhealthy algae, Lalli sinks his knife into its chest. It makes an unpleasant, squelching sound, and then a cold, wet, unnaturally strong hand grabs him by the throat and drags him into the water. He catches a glimpse of Tuuri struggling against the Näkki’s other arm. Then he is plunged below the surface.

The water is cold and the grip around Lalli’s throat is iron hard. He might choke before he drowns. He tries to pry the slimy fingers off with one hand while stabbing blindly with the other, but it’s clear that his efforts are useless, and his lungs are already burning with the need for oxygen. _Will I see Grandma in Hell?_ he wonders dimly, as the knife slips through his fingers.

And then he’s suddenly yanked upwards, in time to hear the Näkki screech in fury as his head breaks the surface. It lets go of his throat and he gasps for breath, feet scrabbling for purchase on the soggy bottom of the lake. Something grabs his arm and he tries to shake it off before Tuuri coughs out his name. He can’t open his eyes, there’s a terrible brightness behind his eyelids and he thinks he might go blind even with his eyes screwed shut. His ears are filled with a painful, high-pitched whine accompanied by a crackling, splintering rumble.  
“What’s happening?” Tuuri shouts to him. “Is the Näkki doing this?”  
Lalli doesn’t know but he doesn’t think so because the Näkki is screaming, adding to the unbearable pain in his ears. He presses his hands against them, considers diving back under the water because drowning might be preferable to having your brain explode –

and then it all stops. He blinks his eyes open in the sudden, ringing silence, the grey pre-dawn sky appearing almost black after the blinding light. He can barely make out Tuuri’s shape in the water by his side. She is the first to break the silence.  
“Is the Näkki gone?”  
“I think so.” At any rate, it doesn’t show itself when they start to slowly wade back to the shore. Something’s different about the forest, though, Lalli realizes, squinting as his eyes readjust to the half-darkness. Hadn’t there been trees growing right next to the waterline?

And then he understands what the rumbling noise had been. All around the lake, the sturdy pines and firs have fallen to the ground, as if flattened by the blast wave of an explosion.

***

They make their way back out of the forest in an exhausted silence, too wet and bruised and stunned to discuss what has happened. The sun is already up when they finally crawl into the front of the van.  
“I’ll take you home”, Tuuri says tonelessly. Lalli nods, curls up against the window and immediately falls asleep.

“We’re almost there.” He returns to consciousness slowly, shivering in his damp clothes, and sees the flashing blue lights as soon as they turn the last corner. The flames are leaping high into the sky from the roof of the apartment building, and the cloud of smoke is rising even higher. The van jerks to a halt as Tuuri slams her foot on the brake. Everything Lalli owns is currently going up in flames, but that is irrelevant. This time, it’s his turn to break the silence.  
“It’s found us again.”

***

Tuuri’s place is still intact, at least. They sprinkle rock salt along the walls of the tiny apartment and paint the walls with all the warding signs they can remember or find in Grandma’s journal. When they’ve secured the apartment as well as they can, Lalli exchanges his wet clothes for some of Tuuri’s. They’re both too short and too wide for him, but he’s too tired to care.

Under Tuuri’s bed, wrapped in a spare duvet, he expects to sink back into his old nightmare as he lays his weary head to rest. But he doesn’t. Instead, he dreams of the bright light in the forest. But in the dream, unlike in the forest, there’s also a voice, and it’s speaking to him.

_“I can help you, Lalli. Let me help you…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those curious about Teuvo: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ddDeYcVhEno
> 
> It's a song about a guy who wants to be a rally driver but keeps ending up in car crashes.


	3. The Idiot, the Madwoman and the Man with the Throat Illness

“We need a plan.”  
Lalli groans into his cup of coffee. He’s slept for roughly twenty hours, but he wishes he could crawl back under the bed instead of facing Tuuri’s determination. He hates plans. They always go wrong anyway.  
“Look, Grandma thought she could protect us from… _it_ , but she’s not here to protect us anymore, so we have to do something ourselves.”  
“If it got Grandma, how do you think we can beat it?” Lalli asks pessimistically.  
“I don’t know, but we have to try, don’t we?” Tuuri snaps. “We can’t just stay holed up here and hope that a bit of rock salt keeps it away.”  
Reluctantly, Lalli has to agree.  
“Right then. I’ve been going through Grandma’s notes, and there are a few contacts I think we could ask for help. People who might know what leads she was pursuing during her last months.”  
She means they need to _talk_. To _people_. The plan already sounds horrible.  
“While you were sleeping, I tried calling the phone numbers she’s written down, but most of them aren’t in use anymore, and the last one I tried belonged to a woman who died recently, a Taru Hollola. Her widow picked up the phone. She died in a violent house fire. A distant relative of ours, apparently.”  
That’s not very promising.  
“Then there are a few addresses without phone numbers. Most of the places are in the middle of nowhere – who on Earth even lives in Keuruu? – but there’s one address in Helsinki. I googled it – it’s a bar in Kallio. _The Grade A Cat_ , pretty weird name for a bar if you ask me. Still, I thought we could start there.”

***

_The Grade A Cat_ is located in a narrow side street. The windows are dirty and the neon sign spelling out the name of the bar is flickering annoyingly. It doesn’t look like Lalli’s type of place at all. Although, to be fair, bars in general are not his thing. They’re smelly, and noisy, and worst of all, there are usually people.

Luckily, _The Grade A Cat_ is completely deserted in the early afternoon. The place appears to have some kind of a kitschy Viking theme, with carved dragon heads and fake helmets with horns hanging on the walls. Looking more closely, though, Lalli realizes that there are some kind of subtle runes carved all around, too: on the walls, the furniture, even the ceiling. He recognizes the feeling of protective magic, even though the style is unfamiliar to him. No wonder the place feels strangely safe.

The bartender, a blonde young man who looks like he could be around Lalli’s age, has his back towards the door and seems to be busy arranging his hair with the help of a comb and a small mirror. He doesn’t notice them come in, too concentrated on admiring his reflection. What an idiot.

Tuuri clears her throat loudly.  
“Excuse me, could you help me with something?”  
The blonde man is startled and drops his comb, then proceeds to almost knock over a stack of glasses as he turns around, flustered.  
“I’m sorry – how may I help you?” he stammers, blushing. He has a weird accent. Probably Swedish.  
“I’m looking for information about someone. Does the name “Hotakainen” mean anything to you?”  
The Swede’s brow furrows for a moment, but then he brightens up.  
“Oh yes! You’re talking about that crazy old lady, right? The one who’s on a one-woman mission to kill all the demons in Finland?”  
“She was our grandmother”, Tuuri replies frostily.  
“She’s dead”, Lalli adds, to clarify.  
The Swede freezes, his grin transforming into a horrified expression.  
“Uh… I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean…” He waves his hands in the air, as if compensating for the lack of coherent words. “You probably want to talk to my boss instead of me”, he adds, turning towards a door that seems to lead into a back room. “Sigrun! I need your help!”

Lalli hears a crash from the back room. A few seconds later, the door is kicked open, and he finds himself facing a tall, fierce-looking redheaded woman, who is pointing a gun right at his head.  
_“Er de demoner?”_ the woman demands, glancing at the Swede. He’s now looking even more horrified.  
_“Nej, nej, nej!”_ the Swede exclaims. “Please put the gun away! They’re just looking for information about the cra- I mean, about Mrs Hotakainen”, he adds, in Finnish. “They’re her grandchildren.”  
To Lalli’s relief, the woman lowers her gun.  
“ _Dritt!_ Emil, how many times have I told you not to shout for help unless there’s an actual problem? As in, a lethal one? And sorry about that”, she continues, turning towards Lalli and Tuuri. Her accent is even weirder than the Swede’s. “A couple of demons tried to burn the place down last month, so I’m not taking any chances.”  
“That’s… understandable”, Tuuri replies, though she’s still eyeing the woman warily. The redhead grins at her. She probably means to look reassuring, but in Lalli’s opinion, there’s something rather predatory about her white teeth. She reminds him of a tiger. Interesting to observe, but only from a safe distance, and preferably from behind thick steel bars.  
“Drinks are on me, and I’d be more than happy to give you any information I have”, the woman says. “I’m Sigrun Eide, by the way – the most best hunter in Scandinavia. And you’ve already met my buddy Emil Västerström. He’s really good at explosives. A bit too good, really.”  
Lalli doesn’t know what that means, exactly, but it’s not reassuring.

As Tuuri introduces them and begins to explain their situation to Sigrun, Lalli lets his head sink down on the bar counter. The bar is not very brightly lit, the counter is not terribly uncomfortable – it’s entirely possible to snatch a nice fifteen minutes of sleep while the others babble on.  
“Uh, Tuuri? Does your cousin want anything to drink?” he hears the Swede ask.  
“He doesn’t drink.”  
“What about something to eat, then?”  
“He doesn’t really like anything except cookies.”  
The Swede doesn’t say anything to that, and Lalli is just about to doze off when someone pats his head softly. He opens one eye. It’s the idiot Swede.  
“I, uh, brought you something to eat.”  
Lalli opens his other eye and turns his head slightly. There’s a glass of milk and a plate with cookies on the counter. Maybe the Swede isn’t a _complete_ idiot after all.

“Your Grandma did visit us a couple of months ago”, says Sigrun, taking a big gulp of beer. “She was looking for some kind of a weapon.”  
“What weapon?” Tuuri asks. “She had plenty of guns and knives of her own.”  
“I don’t know exactly, but she thought it might be able to kill the demon that’s after your family. I’m no good at all that research stuff, so I told her to talk to this Danish theologian dude at the university. He’s really annoying, but he knows pretty much everything about everything. Don’t know if she ever did talk to him, though.”  
“It’s a good start, anyway!” Tuuri says, excited. “Where can we find this Danish theologian?”  
Sigrun reaches over and fluffs Tuuri’s hair, smiling.  
“I’ll take you to see him right now if you want, little fuzzy-head.”  
“Well, that would be great, if it’s not too much of a problem…”  
“It’s no problem at all. Emil can stay and watch the bar. Your Grandma helped me a few times over the years, I owe it to her to help you kids if I can. Besides, this demon of yours sounds fun. Nothing better than a good demon-hunt!”  
Lalli suspects that their new ally may be more than a little crazy.

***

_Mikkel Madsen, Doctor of Theology_ , says the sign by the door. Sigrun barges in without knocking. The broad-shouldered man behind the desk raises his head from an ancient-looking book and sighs deeply. He has impressive sideburns.  
_“Hej Sigrun. Hvordan kan jeg hjælpe dig?”_  
Lalli instinctively steps back. The man sounds as if he’s suffering from some nasty throat illness. Best not to get too close.  
”These two kids are looking for information about their Grandma”, Sigrun says in Finnish. “The old Hotakainen lady. She’s dead.”  
“I am very sorry for your loss”, the big man says to Lalli and Tuuri, rising from behind his desk. “My name is Mikkel Madsen”, he adds, reaching out to shake Tuuri’s hand. Lalli tries to back away, but Tuuri pushes him forward so that he has to shake hands with the Dane, too. Great. Throat illness it is, then.  
“I was wondering why your Grandma had not been in contact”, Mikkel continues, walking over to a huge bookcase. Lalli assumes it was because she didn’t want to get the throat illness, either. Well, and because she was dead. Mikkel pulls a huge, worn old book off the shelf and carries it to the desk. “She visited me approximately two months ago and asked me to search for information concerning a certain weapon, known as _Häyhä’s rifle_.”

“Hyäöyhöy what?” Sigrun doesn’t even try to pronounce the impossible diphthong correctly.  
“It is a legendary rifle, built with the aid of magic in the late 1920s and named after the famous marksman Simo Häyhä, who is believed to have used it during the Winter War. It is said that it never misses and that it can kill anything.”  
“Even, say, a demon?” Sigrun demands.  
“Yes, Sigrun, even a demon”, Mikkel replies patiently.  
“And did you find any information?” Tuuri asks, wide-eyed.  
Mikkel gives her a small smile.  
“I did indeed.” He gestures towards the book. “According to these records, when the war ended, it was deemed best to lock the rifle up somewhere safe and hidden in order to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands.”  
“So where did they put it?” Tuuri exclaims. “And please don’t tell me it’s somewhere in Northern Lapland, Utsjoki or something…”  
“They did not”, Mikkel reassures her. “In fact, you are currently merely a block away from it. They buried it under the floor of the crypt underneath the Helsinki Cathedral.”

***

“Okay, so this is what we’re going to do”, Sigrun says, inspecting a blueprint of the crypt that Mikkel has dug up online. “We’ll scout out the location during the day tomorrow – there’s even a café there so it won’t look weird if we stay for a while – and then break in and grab the rifle during the night. Fuzzy-head, you’re in charge of driving the escape vehicle, so you’ll wait outside with the engine running, ready to go. The little guy –” she waves her hand at Lalli “– will keep watch and let us know if someone’s coming, while Emil, Mikkel and I -”  
Mikkel interrupts her decisively.  
“Sigrun, I am not going to participate in a burglary.”  
“Oh, come on, don’t be a wimp!” Sigrun exclaims.  
“I am not a wimp, I simply do not wish to break into an important historical building with people who are no doubt planning to blow something up. Moreover, I believe you will all be caught and end up in jail, and I would prefer to avoid that.”  
Sigrun’s eyes narrow dangerously.  
“Maybe I should call Uncle Trond and ask what he thinks.”  
Mikkel stills.  
“You would not do that.”  
“Wouldn’t I? He’s a close family friend, you know, and I think he owes my parents a favour…”  
Mikkel closes his eyes for a moment. Lalli suspects that he may be counting to ten in his head.  
“Very well, then. I will assist you with this idiotic mission and attempt to ensure that we do not all end up dead or behind bars.”


	4. Häyhä's Rifle

A steady drizzle of rain is falling down from the grey clouds above the Helsinki Cathedral. Lalli shivers. If he doesn’t catch Mikkel’s throat illness, all this running around in wet clothes is surely going to give him pneumonia. Sigrun, of course, says that the weather is perfect because it means no one will want to be outside at 3 a.m. and there’s a smaller risk of anyone seeing them, but then she isn’t the one who has to stand around in the rain keeping watch.

He is standing on a terrace behind the great white bulk of the cathedral, while below him, at street level, Emil, Sigrun and Mikkel are working on breaking the lock on the decorative metal gate protecting the glass door to the crypt. Judging by the cursing in three different Scandinavian languages, it is not easy.  
“Okay, move back, I’m going to use the welding torch”, he hears Emil say. There’s a sudden bright light and a hissing sound followed by something clattering to the ground.  
“Good job!” Sigrun’s voice says. Lalli glances around him. The street behind the cathedral is still deserted apart from Grandma’s van, where Tuuri is fidgeting nervously in the driver’s seat.

Then there’s a sound of glass shattering, and somewhere below Lalli’s feet, an alarm starts to ring. More swearing, mostly in Norwegian this time.  
“Hurry up, boys, we don’t have much time!”  
Footsteps, crackling of glass under heavy boots, and Sigrun’s voice retreating further into the crypt:  
“Get your explosives ready, Emil!”

For a few minutes, nothing happens, except that the rain keeps falling and the alarm bell keeps ringing. Then, a muffled boom from the crypt. And another one. And, somewhere in the distance, but rapidly getting closer, the wail of police sirens.

As he has been instructed, Lalli dials Sigrun’s number.  
“The police are on their way.”  
“WHAT!?” Sigrun’s yell almost ruptures Lalli’s eardrum. “Can’t hear you, kid, that explosion was pretty loud, but we’re almost done here!” She hangs up. Lalli is left to pace nervously in the rain.

He’s already moved to stand by the side door of the van when the trio emerges from the crypt, coughing through their ski masks and covered in dust. Mikkel, running out last, is carrying a long, thin box in his arms.  
“Everyone get in the van! Tuuri, step on the gas!” Sigrun is shouting.  
Lalli is bundled into the back of the van in a confusion of sharp elbows and singed hair, ending up somewhere on the floor half-lying on Emil’s legs. The Swede grabs hold of him as Tuuri makes a sharp turn at a far too high speed, tossing them about wildly.  
“Are the police after us?” Mikkel yells.  
“I don’t think so!” Tuuri shouts back.  
“Then slow down before someone breaks their neck back here!”

They make it to _The Grade A Cat_ without anyone breaking their neck and also, as far as they know, without being followed. Sigrun is in an ecstatic mood, slapping everyone on the back in turn and declaring that they must all have some Viking blood in them.  
“Drinks are on the house!” she announces, marching to the bar.  
“Oh yes, we should definitely celebrate”, Mikkel tells her acidly. “After all, we have not only caused what may be permanent damage to a beautiful building with immense cultural and religious value – we have also stolen a highly dangerous weapon that could cause terrible destruction if placed in the wrong hands.”  
“Well, luckily it’s in the right hands, then!” Sigrun declares, unperturbed. “And you clearly need a drink or two to loosen up a bit.”  
Mikkel sighs, shaking his head, but accepts the pint she offers him.

Emil and Tuuri, meanwhile, are trying to pry the long, narrow metal box open.  
“I could try the welding torch”, Emil begins to say, but is immediately cut off by Sigrun:  
“No playing with fire on business premises, pretty boy. Remember what happened last time. Mikkel, give them a hand with the crowbar, will you?”

The rifle looks utterly unremarkable. It does, however, seem to be in a surprisingly good condition considering that it is more than eighty years old. In fact, looking closer, Lalli can’t see a single scratch or stain. Recalling the hours spent painstakingly cleaning sand and mud from the rifle he was practically married to during his obligatory six months in the Finnish army, he is willing to admit that a self-cleaning rifle would be magical indeed.

Sigrun is more sceptical.  
“Doesn’t feel that special to me”, she says, picking it up and weighing it in her hands. “We should probably test it on something before going after the demon. It would be kind of embarrassing if it turned out to be just a normal old rifle. And the demon would also kill us.” Her gaze sweeps over the group as if trying to decide which of them to use as a practice target. Fortunately, Mikkel steps in before they find out who would have been chosen.  
“I heartily agree, Sigrun, but in my opinion, it can wait until everyone is sober and we are in a place where the sound of a gunshot will not attract unnecessary attention. In the meantime, I suggest you put the rifle away…”

***

The rifle having been packed safely back into its box, the group has settled comfortably at the counter. Emil, whom Lalli is beginning to dislike a lot less than he dislikes most other people, has brought more cookies, and Lalli is trying to devour them all as quickly as possible. Meanwhile, Tuuri is interrogating Sigrun and Mikkel about why they became hunters and, more importantly, how they ended up in Finland.  
“Oh, my parents are hunters, too, so I was raised to the life”, Sigrun is explaining cheerfully, pouring herself another beer. “I put my first ghost to rest when I was seven years old. Sometime in my twenties, I got bored of just hunting stupid Draugar and Lindworms all the time, so I decided to take a holiday trip to Finland because I wanted to have a go at killing an Ajattara…”

But the rest of Sigrun’s story is lost to Lalli. His ears are suddenly filled with the same high-pitched whine that he heard in the forest, when the mysterious force banished the Näkki. His sight is dimming, too, or rather everything else is being drowned out by a light that somehow seems to be radiating from all around him.  
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he hears Emil exclaim. The Swede grabs him just before he falls off his barstool. “Guys, I think Lalli’s not feeling well!”  
Lalli is vaguely aware of being carefully lowered onto the floor, but he feels his consciousness slipping away into the brightness.  
“Wow, what kind of a drink did you make him, Emil?” he faintly hears Sigrun ask.  
“Just milk, I swear”, the Swede replies, sounding distressed, but his voice is receding somewhere far away, as Lalli is rising up, up, above the noise and confusion. 

There is only the light now, but this time, it seems to be forming into a shape that is vaguely human-like, though it’s too bright for him to see properly.  
_“You need to have faith, Lalli. Trust me”_ , the being made of light says in a booming voice. _“I can help you. Just let me help…”_  
Lalli tries to reach out towards the being, and for a moment it feels as if his hand has gotten a hold of something soft and fluffy. Then the light flashes brighter than ever before, and he can remember no more.

***

The floor is hard and uncomfortable. Lalli tries to shift into a better position, but strong hands grab his shoulders and hold him still. There’s something wet and sticky dripping from his nose.  
“I believe he is coming round”, Mikkel’s voice says.  
“Lalli!” Tuuri’s voice. “Can you hear me? Just lie still and don’t move, you’ve had some kind of a seizure.”  
“We should take him to the hospital”, Mikkel says. “The nosebleed seems to be stopping, but collapsing like that is certainly not normal.”  
“No!” Lalli forces his eyes open, struggling to sit up. Another pair of hands – Emil’s – help him. “No hospital. I’m fine.”  
“What happened?” Tuuri asks, pale and wide-eyed. Lalli has no idea, but he hopes it doesn’t happen again. His head is hurting and everything around him seems to be a little out of focus.  
“I had… some kind of a vision”, he mutters, wiping blood from his face with the back of his left hand. Haltingly, he attempts to describe the bright light, the voice and the dreams he has had before. The others listen in a grim silence.

“Mikkel, do you think something’s trying to possess him?” Sigrun asks once Lalli has finished speaking.  
The big Dane shakes his head slowly.  
“It does not sound like it, but of course I cannot be certain”, he says. “It appears to me that the being, whatever it is, is merely attempting to communicate – for now, at least.”  
“Can we make it stop?” Tuuri asks.  
“Not until we find out what it is”, Mikkel replies.  
“And how do we do that?” Sigrun demands.  
“I do not know. We could try to summon it if we knew its name or had some kind of a physical trace of it –”  
“I think we do”, Emil interrupts him quietly. He points at Lalli’s right hand, which is clenched into a fist.

Lalli looks down. Clutched in his hand, a little crushed but still clearly recognizable, are three long, soft feathers, as bright red as Sigrun’s hair.


	5. I Will Protect You from Anything

“Are you sure you did the ritual right, Mikkel?” Sigrun is leaning against the wall, arms folded. Next to her, Tuuri is standing ready with a vial of holy water in one hand and a gun loaded with rock salt in the other. The tables and chairs have been moved to one side of the room, and the floor is covered in a web of complex painted symbols. There are also candles everywhere, and Emil is sulking in a corner after being strictly ordered not to go near them. Lalli is crouching next to him, also feeling grumpy. He has been allowed far too little sleep after the ordeals of the previous night. On top of that, he has been subjected to a thorough interrogation by Mikkel and also, to his indignation, been splashed with holy water and forced to ingest copious amounts of garlic and salt to make sure that nothing evil is possessing him. His taste buds will never be the same again.

In the centre of the room, a pentagram with a candle in each corner surrounds the three mysterious feathers.

“As certain as I can be”, Mikkel tells Sigrun. He has several thick books on the table next to him and a sturdy iron bar in his hand. “However, as we do not actually know what it is that we are attempting to summon –”  
The bottles on the shelves behind the bar counter begin to clink softly against each other. Then a tremor runs through the floor, rattling the furniture and making Emil grab hold of Lalli’s shoulder in fear. A second tremor shakes them, more powerful than the first, and glasses crash to the floor from their shelves. Sigrun swears. The lights are flashing on and off, showers of sparks flying through the air.

Then there is a blinding flash of light, a crack of thunder ‒ and suddenly, someone is standing in the middle of the pentagram at the centre of the room.

It’s a young man (or at least it has taken the shape of one), fairly tall, freckled, and with the longest, reddest braid of hair Lalli has ever seen. Everyone in the room has tensed: Sigrun and Tuuri are pointing their guns at the man, Mikkel has raised his iron bar and both Emil and Lalli are gripping their knives.

The red-haired spirit (or whatever it is) looks around him at his surroundings, an expression of mild surprise and curiosity on his face. When his eyes meet Lalli’s, however, he breaks out into a delighted grin.  
_“Komdu blessaður og sæll, Lúlli!”_

“Is that devil-speak?” Sigrun demands suspiciously, staring at the creature inside the pentagram.  
“No, Sigrun. I believe that it is Icelandic”, Mikkel says dryly. “Though I do not know how Lalli has managed to get himself haunted by an Icelandic spirit –”

The young man with the braid has listened intently to this exchange and now interrupts Mikkel, in perfect Finnish:  
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry! It’s this new vessel, you see, he’s Icelandic, and I’m still getting used to being inside his head, the language settings are all weird – but I’m being really rude now, just babbling on without even having introduced myself!”  
Apparently unaware of the bewildered looks the others are throwing at each other, he squares his shoulders and flings his hands out in a grand gesture.  
“Lalli Hotakainen, Tuuri Hotakainen, I am very pleased to finally meet you both in person, and also your companions, of course” he says, in a formal tone of voice. “I am Reyniel, your guardian angel, here to protect you from anything you ever decide to fear!” He finishes this startling announcement with a deep bow, then straightens up, beaming at them.

“You’re joking” Sigrun says.  
The being that calls itself Reyniel blinks at her, confused.  
“No, I’m not – at least I didn’t mean to. Was it funny, though?” he adds hopefully.  
“Angels don’t exist”, Sigrun tells him, rolling her eyes. “Right, guys? Have you ever seen one or heard of anyone meeting one?”  
Lalli, Tuuri and Emil shake their heads.  
“Well, I am a theologian –” Mikkel begins to say.  
“Outside of dusty books and crazy religious people”, Sigrun interrupts him.  
“No”, Mikkel admits.

“I can prove it though!” Reyniel exclaims. “Just look!” He closes his eyes, concentrating. There’s a crack of thunder – Lalli wishes their new acquaintances didn’t insist on being so loud all the time – and suddenly, there is a giant pair of red-feathered wings sprouting from Reyniel’s back.  
“Awesome, aren’t they?” he says, flapping them in the air and almost hitting Sigrun in the face. “Whoops – sorry about that, they’re not that great in cramped spaces…” He carefully folds the wings away. Lalli notes that they seem to melt right into his back.  
“That’s a nice party trick, but I’m still not completely convinced that you’re not a demon or some kind of a shape-shifter”, Sigrun says sceptically. “You won’t mind if we do some tests?”

Half an hour later, Reyniel has been doused with salt and holy water, touched with various holy objects and subjected to listening to several long chants in Latin. He has shown no signs of discomfort and even joined in on some of the chanting.  
“Well”, Mikkel says, “I cannot confirm whether he actually is an angel, but I do not know what else he could be. Certainly, he does not seem to be particularly evil.”  
“Yay! Does that mean we can be friends?” Reyniel asks eagerly. “I’ve never actually talked to humans before – this is my first job outside Heaven. It’s so exciting! I just want to know everything about you guys!”

“I have a question for you first!” Tuuri exclaims. She has been staring in fascination at Reyniel’s long, red braid. “Do all angels have really long hair?”  
“Oh, no, this is just my vessel. My real shape is the one you saw in the forest, but it’s a bit impractical if you want to have, like, a conversation or something. So I’m borrowing this Icelandic exchange student for a while.”  
“Uh… what do you mean, borrowing?” Tuuri asks cautiously.  
“Are you possessing that poor guy?” Sigrun demands, grabbing her gun again.  
“No, no, it’s not like that at all!” Reyniel raises his hands in the air. “He doesn’t mind – he’s actually really eager to help. He prayed for this.”  
Sigrun looks doubtful, but reluctantly puts her gun away.

“So why are you guarding me and Lalli?” Tuuri continues. “Or does everyone have a guardian angel?”  
“Ooh, that’s a good question! No, your family’s a bit of a special case”, Reyniel replies, sitting down on one of the tables that have been pushed next to the walls. “It’s a long story actually, but I’ll try to be brief. Have you ever heard of the 66 seals?”  
“Is it some kind of a zoo?” Sigrun asks.  
“Not that kind of seals, Sigrun”, Mikkel says. “I believe he is referring to the legend about the 66 seals keeping Lucifer’s cage in Hell closed.”  
“That’s right!” Reyniel beams at Mikkel. “Except that it’s not just a legend. And they’re not actual, physical seals or locks or anything. More like events that need to happen in order for Lucifer to break free.”

Lalli still doesn’t see how this concerns him or Tuuri. He also doesn’t see why this overly talkative angel person is protecting him when he’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Well, that Näkki situation was a bit of a tight spot, but he’s sure he could’ve handled it without Reyniel’s interference. Maybe.

Tuuri seems to share his confusion.  
“So what does that have to do with us?” She gestures towards herself and Lalli.  
“It has everything to do with you guys, because you’re one of the seals! Or your bloodline is, to be more precise. As long as at least one member of the line is alive, the seal remains intact.”  
“And… that’s why there’s a demon hunting us? To break the seal and help free Lucifer?”  
“Yes, but don’t worry, that’s why there’s also always an angel assigned to watch over your family”, Reyniel says cheerfully. “Although I must say my predecessors seem to have found the job quite difficult. There was that disaster when the two of you were kids, then your great-uncle Toivo a few years ago, and now your grandmother and Taru Hollola – she was the last member of the other branch of the family.” He counts on his fingers. “That’s five members of the bloodline and four angels lost in a bit over ten years, actually. I wonder if that’s why there weren’t any other volunteers…” Reyniel looks thoughtful for a moment, but then brightens up. “Anyway, you guys seem safe and healthy, and I’m going to make sure you stay that way! Though I was under the impression that there were three Hotakainens I needed to keep an eye on.” He looks at Tuuri. “Your brother Onni, where’s he?”

Tuuri suddenly goes pale.  
“Lalli, when was the last time Onni called you?”  
An uncomfortable lump of worry drops into Lalli’s stomach. Onni, overprotective as he is, usually calls him daily, sometimes even several times a day. Not that Lalli answers every time, of course, but they do exchange a few grunted words over the phone almost every day. But during the last few days… He checks his phone.  
“Four days ago.” That’s before they went after the Näkki.  
“I haven’t heard from him after I went to his place to pick up your spare key. Something’s wrong, he hasn’t even texted…”  
The others watch in silence as Tuuri dials her brother’s number and places her phone on a table.  
“I put it on speaker”, she says quietly.  
The call is answered on the third ring.

 _“Hello, Tuuri._ ” It’s definitely not Onni’s voice. It’s a cold, soft, slithering voice that Lalli thinks will probably haunt his nightmares in years to come. If there are any years to come, that is.  
_“If you want to see your brother again, come to Ruttopuisto tomorrow at midnight”_ , the voice says. _“And bring your cousin, too. I’ve wanted to meet you for a long, long time…”_


	6. Plague Park

_“Ruttopuisto?”_ Emil’s voice is incredulous. “As in _Plague Park_? What is it with you Finns and your place names?”  
“It’s just a nickname, but we do have a Cholera Basin, too, and I swear I’ll drown you in it if you don’t stop distracting me. In case you haven’t noticed, my brother’s been kidnapped by a demon”, Tuuri snarls.  
“Sorry!” Emil blushes, mortified. “I’ll just… make you a drink or something…” His voice trails off, and he quickly disappears into the back room.

Reyniel has his head in his hands.  
“This has got to be the worst start to any guardian angel’s career ever!” he moans. “Barely a week into the job and I’ve already lost one of the people I’m supposed to be protecting. I’m such an idiot!”  
Lalli is inclined to agree with him, but Tuuri snaps: “Stop it! He might still be alive!”  
Reyniel stops wailing.  
“Oh, he probably is. I’m pretty sure I would’ve felt it if he’d been killed. But the demon’s only going to keep him alive as long as it thinks it can use him as a bait to get to you two.”  
“And that’s why we need to save him as soon as we can!” Tuuri exclaims. “Can you sense where he is now?”  
Reyniel closes his eyes and his expression turns vacant. After a moment, he blinks.  
“No, sorry. Wherever the demon’s keeping him, it’s probably warded against angels.”  
_“Perkele!”_ Tuuri hisses in frustration. “Then we’ll just have to get to Ruttopuisto tomorrow night –”  
Reyniel interrupts her.  
“I’m sorry, but I can’t allow that. My job is to keep at least one of you alive. I’m not letting you and your cousin get close to that demon.”

“What?” Sigrun’s outraged tone makes everyone jump. She marches up to Reyniel and grabs the baffled angel by the shoulders, shaking him. “I didn’t know angels were this wimpy! Aren’t you supposed to have all kinds of magic powers? How can you be so scared of facing one puny little demon?” She pushes him away from her, hard.  
Reyniel stumbles back.  
“I’m sorry! You’re right, I should be saving him, but I don’t know how! And that demon’s killed four angels before and they were a lot more experienced than me!”  
“But they didn’t have Sigrun Eide helping them!” Sigrun declares, displaying such spectacular overconfidence that Lalli almost has to admire her for it. “And we’ve got two other decent hunters and one bomb expert on our team, too. And a demon-killing rifle! And a guy who reads a lot of books, I suppose that can be useful sometimes.”  
“Thank you”, Mikkel mutters.  
“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, I think we’ve got a pretty nice setup for a demon hunt here. All we need is a good plan, and I’m great at making plans!”

Lalli and Mikkel groan in unison.

***

The summer night is cloudy, and the air feels still and heavy like before a thunderstorm. The streets leading to Ruttopuisto are eerily deserted. Lalli checks the rifle for the hundredth time. Everything still seems to be in order. His and Tuuri’s footsteps are loud in the oppressive silence.

“Can you see anything?” Tuuri whispers as they approach the gate leading to the park. Lalli squints, but the only thing he can see in the twilit night are maple trees and old tombstones, a remnant from the time the park was still used as a graveyard, looming here and there in the half-darkness. They step through the gate and onto the gravel path.  
“Do you think the others –” Tuuri begins to say, but Lalli grabs her shoulder to silence her.

There is someone standing right at the centre of the park, where the gravel paths converge. A familiar, broad-shouldered young man with a mournful expression.  
“Onni!” Tuuri exclaims. She starts running towards him, but stops dead as she sees his eyes. Instead of their usual, yellowish-grey colour, they are completely black. The eyes of a demon.

And a little behind him, each pinned against a tombstone by an invisible force, are Sigrun, Mikkel and Emil.

Lalli points the rifle at the demon. It laughs at him with Onni’s mouth.  
“You won’t do it”, it whispers. “If you shoot me, he dies with me.”  
Lalli doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t shoot, either. The demon chuckles, flicking one of Onni’s fingers carelessly towards Lalli. It feels as if Lalli’s entire body has suddenly turned into stone. He couldn’t squeeze the trigger now even if he wanted to.  
“Finally, all the remaining Hotakainens are at my mercy. Did you truly think you could trick me with your pathetic little ambush? I shall kill the three of you first, and then feast upon the blood of your allies as the seal breaks.”  
Out of the corner of his eye, Lalli sees Emil struggle uselessly against the force pinning him to the gravestone.

The demon takes a step towards Lalli and Tuuri, a long knife appearing in its hand.  
“Let us finish this quickly.”  
As the demon stalks towards them, Tuuri falls to her knees.  
“Onni! I know you’re still in there! Don’t do this! You can stop the demon!”  
The demon laughs, advancing at an unhurried pace.  
“Useless, useless”, it hisses, caressing the knife.  
“Remember Grandma!” Tuuri shouts. “And Mom and Dad! They’re all gone. We’ve only got each other now, Onni. You, me and Lalli. Alone against the world.”  
“How touching”, the demon sneers. It’s only a few paces away, now. “But he cannot save you. He can only cry on the inside as he watches me cut your throat –”

One perfect tear rolls down Onni’s cheek. Several more follow. The demon pauses mid-step, raising a hand to its face.  
“What –”  
_“Exorcizo te, creatura aquae! In nomine dei patris omnipotentis et in virtute spiritus sancti!”_ Tuuri yells.

The teardrops, purified into holy water by Tuuri’s blessing, turn into steam as they burn the evil spirit possessing Onni. The demon screams. Reyniel, appearing behind it from thin air, grabs its arms, wresting the knife out of its hand. Lalli feels the power forcing him to stay still waver and vanish.

Behind the struggling angel and demon, Sigrun, Mikkel and Emil have also been freed from the demon’s hold. Running towards them, Mikkel raises his voice:  
_”Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas…”_  
As the words of the exorcism reach the demon’s ears, Onni’s body stiffens and then convulses in Reyniel’s arms.  
“Do you think there will be peace for you when you are done?” the demon screams. “There are thousands of demons in Hell, you can never escape them all!”  
_“…Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos.”_  
The demon throws its head back, Onni’s mouth opening into a silent scream. Black smoke pours out, and Onni goes suddenly limp.

“Don’t let it escape!” Sigrun shouts. “We need to reverse-exorcise it into something and shoot it!”  
Reyniel vanishes, letting Onni’s apparently lifeless body fall on the ground. Black smoke is still rushing out of Onni’s mouth.

The angel reappears, holding a furiously struggling animal in his hands. Lalli recognizes the characteristic greyish-brown colour of a Helsinki city rabbit.  
“Will this do?”  
The flow of smoke coming out of Onni’s body has slowed to a trickle, and a black cloud is hanging in the air above them. Mikkel grabs the rabbit, raising his voice again.  
_“Et Secta Diabolica, Omnis Congregatio, Omnis Legio, Omnis Incursio Infernalis Adversarii, Omnis Spiritus, Exorcizamus!”_

For a second, the black smoke hangs in the air. Then it begins to pour into the rabbit’s body at an ever increasing pace. Suddenly, the rabbit sinks its teeth into Mikkel’s hand. Mikkel curses, startled, dropping the animal and pressing his bloodied hand against his body. The rabbit breaks into a desperate run.  
“Lalli!” Tuuri screams.

Lalli lifts the rifle, taking aim, and fleetingly remembers that they never got around to testing the power of Häyhä’s rifle after all. Then he squeezes the trigger.

The shot rings out and the demon-rabbit drops to the ground in mid-leap. For a moment, it lies still, a small and pitiful heap. Then grey smoke begins to rise from the wound in its side, and suddenly, flames leap up from the ground, consuming the body. A bloodcurdling scream tears the air. The flames go out.

Then there’s a crack of thunder, and rain begins to pour down, turning the pile of ashes left behind into mud in a matter of moments. 

“I think it worked”, Emil says uncertainly. Sigrun slaps him on the shoulder, making him wince. “Of course it worked! I told you the plan was foolproof.”  
“The ‘plan’ collapsed right at the beginning and we barely survived by means of improvising”, Mikkel remarks dryly.  
“Oh, don’t be such a nitpick!” Sigrun cheerfully slaps him, too. “The demon’s dead and we’re all alive, that’s all that counts.” She looks around. “Hey, Tuuri, even your brother’s alive!”

Onni is struggling to sit up, wiping mud off his face. Tuuri rushes to his side.  
“Tuuri! Where are we? And who are all of these people? Oh God, he’s attacking me!” This last exclamation is referring to Reyniel, who has fallen to his knees and pulled Onni into a rib-crushing hug.  
“I’m so glad you’re safe! I promise I’ll never let anyone hurt you again!” the angel is babbling, squeezing the terrified Onni. Lalli suspects that it might have been kinder to leave his cousin to the demon’s mercy.

***

The van is filled with the smell of wet clothes and sweaty people. Still, Lalli is relatively warm and comfortable in the back, squeezed in between Sigrun and Emil. Sigrun is still gloating over their victory, praising what she calls “her team”.  
“While I am also glad that this suicide mission turned out to be successful against all the odds, the demon was probably right”, says Mikkel, who is sitting opposite them. “There will be more of them coming after the Hotakainen family.”  
Sigrun does not let this dampen her spirits.  
“Whatever, we’ll deal with them just as easily as we dealt with this one. And in the meantime, we’ve got other monsters to hunt. I heard this rumour about a ghost haunting the old roller coaster at Linnanmäki amusement park...”

Lalli closes his eyes and leans his head against Emil’s shoulder. He’s exhausted, his apartment and all his possessions have turned into a pile of ash, and he is currently being recruited into a crazy ghost-hunting scheme led by a madwoman. Still, he supposes it’s better than being dead. Besides, although the future seems full of danger, he won’t have to face it alone. 

And maybe, somewhere along the line, there will even be cookies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruttopuisto is officially called Vanha kirkkopuisto, but that's such a long and boring name. (I've even heard Ruttopuisto shortened to "Ruttis".) It's a nice picnic spot in the summer. Don't go swimming in Cholera Basin, though.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if anyone needed a SSSS/Supernatural crossover set in Helsinki, but here you have one anyway. I've already written a draft of the whole thing, so I'll probably post the rest of the chapters fairly soon.


End file.
